My Dearest Nanaochan
by schweinsty
Summary: What Nanao felt about her captain. ShunsuiNanao fluff.


My Dearest Nanao-Chan

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach

AN: This was written late at night, so though I've gone over it there are sure to be a few mistakes. Please excuse those, and enjoy the fic :).

Ise Nanao was a fairly plain girl. She'd always known that, and it had never bothered her before. She would rather have been intelligent than pretty, so it had worked out all right. And when she was at the academy and realized she had gotten fewer dates in her five years there than any other girl in one, she thought about it for a whole minute before going to the library to check out a book. It's not that she didn't like boys or dates, it's just that she had made a choice to study, and if studying meant that she didn't have time for much of anything else, then that was fine by her.

When Nanao became a shinigami, the only thing she really noticed about her male counterparts were their kidou techniques, and the only fantasies they featured in were ones where they actually turned in their paperwork on time.

It was not surprising, then, that she was assigned to the eighth squad when she passed the vice-captain test. Everyone was tired of Kyouraku's going through vice-captains like water through a sieve, and short of finding out if Komamura had a younger brother, there was simply no way to make him behave – so they picked the next best thing and hoped for the best.

On the first day it was a bunch of roses, the second a box of chocolates, and on the third day he wrote her a five-page poem. Nanao didn't mind; she simply didn't pay them any attention, beyond delivering a frigid put-down every time he tried to give her one. Things continued this way for several years, Kyouraku showering her with gifts and kisses and Nanao throwing notebooks and generally ignoring his 'attentions.'

One day, though, when they were out on patrol in the real world and attacked by hollows, she was caught from behind, almost impaled, and lay helpless on the ground, unable to do anything as the hollow prepared to kill her. And then, just as she was about to close her eyes and wait to die, he was there, standing in front of her, his body between her and the hollow, and before she knew it the hollow was dead and he was picking her up, cradling her in his arms like a child and whispering reassurances in her ear as she started drowning in her own blood.

When she woke up in the 4th division he was sitting next to her, his face drawn with worry, his hands wrapped around one of hers. He didn't try to give her a gift that day, just smiled and told her he was glad she was awake.

It was after that that the gifts started to bother her, just a little. At first it seemed as if they were just a way of getting back to normal, but soon it started, a nagging little thought in the back of her mind, every time he tried to give her one.

Ten years to the day she became his vice-captain, Kyouraku held an 'anniversary party' in celebration. It wasn't big, just them and some others in the office after-hours, but he made them all dress up anyway, and Matsumoto made her wear a peach kimono. He took one look at her and, more seriously than usual, pronounced her the most beautiful vice-captain he had ever seen, and it was then, when her breath hitched and her stomach suddenly got butterflies, that she realized why, exactly, the gifts were bothering her so much.

Things got worse over the years, though Nanao hid it well. Every day she would go to the office and smack him when he tried to flirt, and every day she would watch him leave to go to a drinking party, trying to ignore the sharp twinge of jealousy that came when she wondered if he would find a companion for afterwards. Probably, she thought more often than not, and it made her sick to her stomach.

It did not, as she had feared, get easier with time. Quite the opposite, in fact. Every time she thought she was getting over him he would come in and do something wonderful and heroic, and it would be months before she could smell his scent – sweat and rosewater – or see his haori fluttering in the wind without feeling as if her knees would give out. And every time he showed himself as he really was – like the time she had lost a friend to a hollow and he did the paperwork for three weeks, or the time he risked his life to save Hisagi Shuuhei from a horde of hollows, or the time Hinamori had been crying about Hitsugaya and he took her to the office, made her some tea, and gave her some serious, age-appropriate 'relationship' advice (which he would probably murder her for having listened to, if he ever found out she had been hiding in the broom closet and heard every word) – every time he did something like this, instead of holding steady, her emotions would take one quick, deep dive, and she realized she was just falling deeper and deeper in love with the man. And Ise Nanao did not take love lightly.

She had always been a practical woman, and she tried to look at the situation practically, but no matter how hard she tried, there was always some unreasonable emotion there; now and then it was anger at herself for being so silly, now and then bitterness that he could look at everyone but her, but usually it was a sort of loneliness. Nanao had never expected to fall in love. She had always been surrounded by books rather than people, so she had gotten used to being alone. But now that she had found someone, someone she admired, respected, and cared for more than any other, to know that he would never even look her way twice – that hurt, and it made her feel lonelier than she ever had when she'd been snubbed at the academy. It was an open wound, and every time he brought her presents and pretended like he wanted to kiss her, he was just rubbing salt on it.

It was one of those days, when she was feeling worst, that he left the building in the middle of the day to buy some sake. Nanao slumped at her desk after he left, breath ragged, eyes prickling, tears running down her cheeks. It was all right; he wouldn't be back for at least an hour, probably more, and by then she would be fine. But right now, she needed this. Today had been terrible; he had come into the office early and immediately started bombarding her with chocolates and offers of everlasting love. Oh, if only he would go shove those chocolates down the throat of those bimbos he'd been flirting with last night. Her fist clenched, and she put her hand over her eyes as she sobbed. It just wasn't fair, really. Why couldn't she just-

"Nanao-chan, I forgot my…Nanao-chan?"

Nanao froze and held her breath, but it was too late. She heard quick steps, and the next thing she knew he was kneeling next to her, his hand on her arm.

"What's wrong? Are you fine? Do you need Unohana or-"

"It's nothing." Nanao turned away from him and rubbed her hand across her face. "I'm just…tired."

Naturally, he didn't buy it, instead just grabbing her chair and twisting it around so she was facing him.

"What's wrong?" He looked so concerned she knew she was going to have to come up with a good excuse or be forcibly carried to the fourth division.

"I'm just…there's been a lot of work lately, and I guess I've been…stressed. Yes. Stressed."

Kyouraku sighed and stood up. "Nanao-chan…you're going to tell me what's really wrong. You can tell me the easy way or the hard way, so how about we take the day off, go on a picnic, have a nice long talk by the lake, and then I get you some chocolates and-"

"No!" Nanao saw the shock in his eyes at her sudden outburst, and knew she would probably regret it later, but as the anger bubbled up inside her she couldn't bring herself to care. "No more Nanao-chan, no more pretend kisses, and above all, NO MORE SILLY PRESENTS!"

Kyouraku gaped at her. "Why?"

Nanao, unnaturally, did the first thing that came to her mind. She stood up, grabbed his hat-strings, pulled him down to her height, and kissed him so hard she knew they'd have matching bruises. For one amazing moment she was wrapping her hand around his neck and he was kissing her back, and the next she realized what she had just done.

She broke off and wobbled backwards, kicking the chair away.

"Please," she said, breathing hard, her vision blurrying. "Don't mock me anymore." She looked down again and tried to stifle what felt suspiciously like a sob. What was done was done. Maybe she could transfer to another-

"My dearest Nanao-chan."

His voice was soft, caring. She felt his fingers under her chin and raised her eyes hesitantly to meet his. He was not exactly smiling, but not exactly frowning, either. He looked…compassionate.

"My dearest Nanao-chan," he said again, this time leaning forward and kissing her forehead, smoothing his fingers over her cheeks. "I never meant to mock you."

He moved even nearer, put one arm around her waist, raised her to his height and looked her in the eyes.

"In fact," he said, "I meant something else entirely."

As he moved in to kiss her again – gently, this time – Nanao put her arm around his neck and let herself forget she had ever been angry at herself for loving him. Somehow, she didn't think she'd ever do that again.


End file.
